Victoria Renee

Shadows in the Wind

The night my father buried me, he told me, “I have to.” He didn’t cry. He didn’t smile. He didn’t bother to look my way as he wrapped spools of rope around my waist and shoulders. I closed my eyes and nodded. I understood. We’ve been here before with mom, and my brother along with his seven-year-old son. The two were buried with their arms wrapped in a hug and their hearts thumping against each other. It was the last sound they’d share as my brother whispered into his son’s ear and said, “This is our Forever Song; it’ll play on and on, and on, long after we are gone.”